Chuck Versus the City of PDA
by Steampunk.Chuckster
Summary: Canon, set between Chuck Versus the Other Guy and Chuck Versus the Honeymooners. Chuck and Sarah get to be a real couple for a day. Written for the Chuckiversary Chuck Versus the In-Between challenge. Two parts.
1. Part 1

**A/N: **I've gone and done it again. A massive, sprawling, monster of a story-thanks to my good friend **dettiot **and her brilliant Chuck Versus the In-Between challenge for the one year Chuckiversary of the series finale this past weekend. I decided I wanted to give Chuck and Sarah everything I think they deserved. After everything they'd been through together all the way up until the end of Versus the Other Guy, I figured they deserved a massive dose of Parisian PDA and a distinct absence of longing-instead there's lots of grabbing and kissing.

CANON, set between _Versus the Other Guy _and _Versus the Honeymooners_, an epic amount of Charah and...nothing else, really.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Chuck. Or Sarah Walker. Or Paris. My bedroom is decked out in classic Parisian fashion though. So that's cool.

I've never even been to Paris. Actually, that's important, you guys. Remember I've gotten this all from internet research, so if I've made some mistakes, I apologize profusely! ALSO, there are some questions about the timetable, whether Sarah woke up in the late afternoon/evening or if it was in the morning. I took some liberties there and made a judgement call.

And so...with the CIA and NSA out-of-sight/out-of-mind, the Ring on its way to destruction, and the romance of Paris waiting outside of their hotel room, I give you Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker...a _real _couple...

* * *

Sarah Walker, CIA agent and protector of the Intersect, had never clung so tightly to another person. Not even the time she was almost pushed out of a helicopter without a parachute and had to grasp onto Bryce's hand, dangling hundreds of feet above certain death until he was clear to pull her up to safety. Her life had depended on the tightness of her grip then.

But she wasn't falling out of a helicopter now. She wouldn't lose her life if she let go. That being said, there wasn't a force in the universe that could pry her arms from around Chuck Bartowski's shoulders, or untangle her legs from his.

Chuck's shirt that she'd woken up in almost three hours ago was falling off the end of the bed, mingling with the sheets they'd kicked off in the midst of a particularly physical encounter. Who knew where the rest of their clothing had ended up? Neither Chuck nor Sarah cared a lick about anything, really, except that they were here, tangled in this large majestic bed. And they were together.

They were _finally _together.

Chuck turned his face into Sarah's hair, sliding his arms between the bare skin of her back and the mattress beneath her. Then his eyes opened slowly and he swiveled around a bit so that he could press his forehead to hers. "Hi."

Sarah's misty eyes slid open and she snuggled against him. "Mmm, hi," she replied with an incredibly satisfied smirk. It widened significantly into something that could only be described as ecstatic when he grinned down at her.

"This is good," he breathed softly.

"Yes, it is. Very good." She giggled heartily when he pushed his face into her neck and his curly hair tickled her cheek. He mumbled something against her neck and she moved her head away a bit to look down at him. "What was that?"

"Nothin'." His lips found the spot he'd just discovered was one of her weaknesses, just below her jaw, and she let out a contented sigh, a smile slipping onto her lips and her eyes drifting shut.

Sarah craned her neck to peer at the wall clock over the chaise lounge on the other side of the room. The grandiose piece of furniture looked like it belonged in Versaille. "It's after nine," she muttered and his lips stopped moving against her skin. She almost groaned in protest but luckily bit it back in time. That could have potentially been slightly embarrassing. She didn't particularly relish the thought of herself as a needy lover.

"Have we an appointment, Agent Walker?" he asked in a teasingly business-like tone.

"No, we don't," she replied in the same tone. Then she paused. "Actually, we might. Depending."

Chuck made a face, pursing his lips and propping himself up to look into her eyes again. He'd discovered quite recently that in the early morning her eyes were his favorite color. They were a bright grayish blue with flecks of brown around the pupils—unlike anything he'd ever seen. It wasn't as though he'd had a chance to see them this close before. He couldn't fight the awe from his features as one side of his mouth turned up. "Depending on what?"

Sarah smiled a bit shyly, finally unclenching her hand from where it held onto his shoulder and brushing it through the dark curls on his head. "If you want to get to the top of that tower over there." Her eyes flicked to the window.

Chuck refused to look away from her. "What tower?"

His eyes sparkled and she knew he was teasing. "The Eiffel Tower, you nerd." She ruffled his hair playfully and grinned with her tongue between her teeth when he scrunched up his face.

"Ah, that one. Mm, let's just stay here."

She sighed, lifting an eyebrow when he began kissing down her jawline to her neck again. "I thought you wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. At least, that's what you told me a few days ago."

He gaped up at her in slight surprise. "I did say that, didn't I?"

"Mhm."

He turned his head and used his toes to push against the mattress and shift his body higher up against hers. The contact of their still damp skin sent a thrill through Sarah's body and she bit her lip, wondering just what he was up to exactly. She watched the muscles in his arms flex and reveled in the fact that she was allowed to stare blatantly, allowed to admire him up close. So she quietly wrapped a hand around his bicep and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Not seeming to mind or even notice really, Chuck craned his neck so that he could see the monument through the window. "I can see the Eiffel Tower from here. See? There it is. It looks great. Fantastic even. Majestic. Wondrous. And a million other positive words." He looked back down at her and ran his hands over her sides slowly. "But I don't really wanna move."

"Why?" she chuckled.

"Mmm I'm tired," he mumbled. "And…" Chuck stopped, licking his lips and swinging himself off of her and gently laying his back against the mattress.

"And what?" She turned her head to peer at him.

"And…" He reached over with the hand that wasn't still pinned under Sarah's body and tenderly swept a strand of her soft hair behind her ear. "It's taken us so long to get here. I'm afraid if we move it'll all disappear."

The soft smile on her lips dimmed as she rolled onto her side and pressed the entire length of her body against him again. She set a hand on his chest and lightly stroked his skin with her fingers. "I know what you mean." Her hand slid up to his cheek and she lightly nudged his face towards hers, kissing his lips softly. "This isn't one of your scifi shows, Chuck. This is real life. This? You and me?" She gestured between them. "It's happening. _Finally_."

His giant grin was infectious, as always, and he reached over to tug her on top of him. "What do you say to it happening some more?" he said, his voice low in his throat as he nuzzled her nose.

"Eh." She shrugged noncommittally, then propped her chin on her hand, her elbow leaning on his chest, giving him an adorably and misleadingly innocent look.

Chuck laughed and rolled them over, pinning her against the mattress and growling teasingly into her neck as she beamed gloriously and wrapped her long limbs around him.

}o{

"Here." Sarah led Chuck beneath the bus stop overhang and peered at the slightly convoluted bus line map. She tracked their route in her mind and reached into her jean pockets to feel for the ticket she'd purchased at the front desk of their hotel. "Have your ticket somewhere handy. It'll be crowded today."

He pulled his ticket out of his back pocket and waved it at her, grinning so hard that she couldn't resist sneaking a quick peck on his cheek. They waited for another two minutes in silence, holding hands and peering out at the Parisian street and the people wandering it. A crowd quickly began to form around them on the sidewalk as the bus pulled to a stop at the curb.

Tourists jostled them so hard that they were separated once they climbed up into the vehicle. A chubby middle aged woman clutching a well-worn French romance novel was wedged between Chuck and a thin, hard-faced businessman, who was pressed against a blonde young woman, who was then pressed against Sarah. The seats were taken, leaving the two lovers standing in the aisle about five feet apart.

Chuck shrugged helplessly at her, stuck where he was. He only hoped the trip wouldn't take long. Or better yet, everyone in the bus except he and Sarah would get off at the next stop. That'd be nice.

They swayed back and forth as the bus drove over the bumps, jostling along the road. Chuck clung to the metal pole nearby as he peered over to Sarah, trying to catch her eye. She clutched a leather loop that hung from the bar above, swaying to and fro with the movement of the train and the constant stops.

Finally, she leaned a little further into the aisle to peer around the people between her and Chuck. She met his gaze and her lips twitched in a small smile. Her blue eyes flirtatiously raked down his body all the way to his sneakered toes, then swept slowly back up to his face again. Chuck gaped for a moment, then caught onto her game. He felt adrenaline rocket through him, excitement and happiness threatening to bowl him over in front of dozens of strangers.

Chuck pursed his lips and gave her a sidelong glance over the shoulder of the woman reading the trashy romance rag. He winked and smirked a little.

Sarah raised her eyebrows and squeezed herself as small as she could to let another passenger through as he hustled toward the back of the bus. When he passed, she turned her attention back to Chuck and narrowed her eyes with a sultry little shrug.

The bus pulled to the side of the street again and a slew of passengers flooded out of the bus. Relief swept through them both and they began slowly making their way closer, but it was like salmon swimming against the current, for a horde of Parisians clambered onto the bus immediately after the others had disembarked.

Chuck's heart hammered against his chest as she sent him a teasing pout. He forgot the game for a moment and grinned at her, then sobered quickly and pulled himself tighter against the pole as the bus drove over a vicious bump. He bit his lip and smiled. She pressed her cheek against the hand that was holding onto the strap, smiling softly at him and miming a kiss at him.

His eyebrows shot up to his hair line and he looked at the people around him, peering over his right shoulder, then his left. "Me?" he mouthed, poking himself in the chest.

She sent him a coy nod and a slow smile grew on his face. He thought about sending a kiss back, but changed his mind, instead sliding his fingers down to grab ahold of the hem of his shirt. He subtly lifted until a small patch of smooth skin above his belt was revealed.

Coupled with the Bartowski eyebrow dance, it got Sarah to let out a blast of air through her lips, something of a snort. It was accompanied by a quick giggle, which she disguised with a cough into her fist.

Keeping her eyes on him, she couldn't help but grin back and shake her head at his antics. Good thing the woman reading the beat up romance novel hadn't turned when he flashed his belly. Admittedly, the sight of his bare skin there brought memories of the morning rushing back to her and she bit her lip, looking out the window as though the passing sights were all of a sudden more interesting than her lover standing a few feet away.

She saw a bit of frantic movement in her peripheral and glanced back at Chuck. He was wiggling his fingers to get her attention and stopped when he got it. He winked again and pulled the sleeve of his jacket to reveal his wrist. He pursed his lips in a sexy (but incredibly nerdy) smolder, then leaned against the pole suavely.

Sarah bit back the laugh that threatened and grabbed at the front of her jacket, tugging it back to reveal the shoulder of her blouse beneath. Batting her eyelashes, she swept the jacket back in place before slipping her free hand into her back pocket.

The next two stops were spent with Chuck pointedly taking a peak over the woman's shoulder, dramatically (and silently) pretending to be absolutely affronted by the words on the page. Sarah had to really bite down hard on her lips to keep from laughing like she wanted to, careful to keep from alerting the poor woman that she was being teased mercilessly.

"Terrible," he mouthed, shaking his head with a goofy look of distaste on his face.

She narrowed her eyes. "You don't even read French," she mouthed back and he looked flabbergasted, putting a hand against his heart.

"How dare you?" Chuck tapped his temple meaningfully, then faked a flash, causing Sarah to smirk widely.

His eyes flicked down to the words again and they widened comically. Then he looked back up at her through his eyelashes and bounced his eyebrows once. "Ooo, we should try this one."

Sarah's face crumbled and she looked away, covering her mouth to smother the bark of laughter that threatened to escape. Chuck would be the death of her if he continued. The bus cleared then, at least enough for her to feel him step up close to her front and wrap his arm around the nearby pole. She turned from the window and looked up into his eyes.

They ignored the people pouring in around them, forcing their fronts to be pressed together as the bus continued along its route again.

"Hi," Chuck said softly, a powerful look of absolute contentment in his face that left Sarah reeling. Sometimes all Chuck had to do was give her one of his many looks that made her feel like she was the only person in the world, and nothing else mattered. This was one of those times.

"Hi," she breathed back.

He squeezed a hand between them. "I'm Chuck."

She squeezed hers likewise and their fingers threaded together in an intimate handshake. "Sarah."

With a loving smile, she let go of the strap and slid her arms beneath his jacket, rounding his torso and hugging herself to him tightly, her cheek against his chest. While he kept them both secure with one arm wrapped around the pole, his other arm hugged her close, a little possessive, she thought—but then, Chuck was the only person in the world who was allowed a little possessiveness where she was concerned. Especially when she felt his lips press against her hair.

More than that, as they bounced along toward the Eiffel Tower, Sarah felt protected…safe. For the first time since she could remember, she was without a single care in the world.

}o{

Chuck looked at the quaint storefronts they strolled passed and marveled at the beautiful details in the architecture. Then he turned to peer at Sarah beside him, and not for the first time since Sarah woke up from her tranq-induced sleep, felt his emotions threaten to bubble over.

Sarah gave him a sidelong glance and nudged him with her shoulder. "What?"

"Nothin'," he said in a sing-songy voice.

"Mm, not buyin' it. You were staring at me."

He chuckled. "Why do you think?"

Sarah blushed a little and bit her lip, looking away. Her eyes suddenly lit up and her lips twitched a little nervously.

"Come with me," she breathed, tugging him along by their joined hands.

"Absolutely," he said a bit dreamily.

Sarah took Chuck through a small crowd watching a man do a magic trick with rings, then navigated around the small congregation of cars, finally stopping at a small stand at the side of the road.

A teenage couple, each with steaming morsels of thin bread wrapped in paper clutched in their hands, left the stand and passed Chuck and Sarah. The super spy spun to regard Chuck and shrugged with a slightly cautious smile. "You like crepes for breakfast?"

"It's not _exactly _breakfast anymore, Sarah."

She reached out and tangled her fingers in the lapels of his light jacket, jerking him close to her and reveling in the goofy look that immediately overcame his handsome face.

"And whose fault is that, Mr. Bartowski? You distracted me on the bus and we went three stops too far," she said coyly. She looked up at him through her eyelashes.

The goofy smile widened so that it wrinkled his nose and the corners of his eyes. "Yeah, I'm a stinker, aren't I?"

"Buy me a crepe, Stinker. I'm hungry." She let go of him and patted his chest, turning to the stand. As she stepped up to the counter and spoke in French to the pretty brunette making the crepes, Chuck looked at the pictures on the menu and felt his stomach rumble. It was well past ten o'clock and he hadn't eaten since he fished an old bag of plane pretzels out of his pocket in the middle of the night to keep himself awake while he kept watch over Sarah. Before that, he'd been too worried to eat anything but a roll on the plane. Suffice to say, he was famished. Especially after the morning's vigorous activities.

Not that he felt like complaining.

He didn't feel the smirk or the way his whole body kind of melted when he thought of the things Sarah had done to—He shook himself out of his stupor.

Sarah was looking at him, her face expectant. But underneath the raised eyebrows and questioning look, there was a devilish sparkle in her eye. She knew exactly what he was thinking about.

With a blush, he cleared his throat. "Uh, h-hm? Sorry, there are just so many things to choose from. I'm a little overwhelmed."

"Uh huh," she replied smartly. She turned and spoke in French to the woman in the crepe stand and the woman's green eyes flicked up and down over Chuck's physique. Then she let out a soft snort and winked at Sarah.

Chuck frowned and decided to ignore the exchange. "Uh, what—What's this?" He pointed at one of the choices on the menu.

"Do you trust me, Chuck?"

"'Course I do."

His answer was so immediate and sincere that she was unable to keep the smile from her face. She leaned forward and held up a finger pointing to the menu over the crepe-seller's shoulder, muttering their order. Then she fished in her purse to pay for their breakfast but Chuck's hand clamped down on hers.

"Ah-ah. This Stinker's buying you a crepe, remember?"

She grinned and pulled her hand back out of her purse.

They took their breakfast a few minutes later and walked alongside a planter, Chuck's eyes wider than saucers as he feasted them on the plate he carried, piled high with cream and warm, steaming apple slices, cinnamon and sugar.

"There were chairs back there," Chuck offered, but she merely shook her head and pulled him along. He'd gladly follow Sarah Walker anywhere, as long as they didn't have to walk much farther while he could smell his food but not eat it.

Finally they stopped in a small clearing where a few heavy brass tables and chairs were arranged on the brick ground. A canopy of vines and pretty white flowers arched over the seating area, leaving the tables pleasantly shaded from the April sun.

They were surprisingly alone as they walked into the sanctuary.

Sarah set her plate down on one of the tables and made to sit, but Chuck dropped his plate beside hers and hastened to her chair, pulling it out for her. They were heavier chairs than he'd thought, but he managed.

"Thanks."

"Oh, sure."

They dug into their food silently. Well, not _so _silently, because every few bites, Chuck made soft moaning sounds that were seriously messing with Sarah's psyche. She inched her leg forward and eased her foot out of her heel, running her toes along Chuck's ankle.

He made a soft choking noise, his eyes bugging out, and then he swallowed thickly. "You…" He pointed a finger at her and narrowed his eyes. Then he pursed his lips, smiled, and began eating in earnest again. "So how'd you find this place?"

She lightly ran her toes under the cuff of his pants and shrugged silently.

"You just magically knew it'd be here? Come on. Tell me."

Sarah reached across the table and folded her fingers into his, loving the warmth of his hand around hers. She pushed a strawberry around in the whipped cream and shrugged shyly. "This is my place."

He leaned forward a bit. "Your place?"

"Yeah." She shrugged again, popping the strawberry into her mouth. "I kinda found it on my first mission in Paris. It's peaceful and beautiful and…mine."

He smiled a little and squeezed her hand. "It is all of those things."

His heart sped up as she beamed at him, then ducked her head a bit. "Every time I had an assignment in Paris, if I had time for myself, I'd come here. And I would stay as long as I could. Reading a book, drinking my coffee, or just sitting and watching people…I dunno."

Chuck saw the way her eyes darted out to the street beyond her little sanctuary. She was still playing with her food with her compostable fork and biting her lip. "Hey, why you so bashful all of a sudden?" he chuckled, nudging her foot with his converse under the table. She'd still been absently stroking his leg with her toes. He accepted and enjoyed it as a natural thing that occurred between two people who, for all intents and purposes, couldn't and didn't want to keep their hands off each other.

She smiled and raised her eyebrows, blushing and looking down at her plate. "I'm not being bashful," she tried, but she obviously knew he didn't buy it. "It's just that this is my place where I can escape, you know? Work doesn't follow me here. And I can get away from…I dunno…_people_." She bounced her right shoulder adorably.

Chuck cleared his throat and scooted a bit closer in his chair, finishing off the last of his crepe and moving his plate aside. "Uh, Sarah…I realize I've got this giant computer in my brain, but I'm pretty sure I still qualify as a person."

Sarah laughed. "No, you are. But you're Chuck Bartowski and you're special. It's just that…I didn't pause, not even for a second, about bringing you here. I wanted you to see it. Chuck, this place is really important to me. I've never brought anyone here. Except you."

"Yeah?" As corny as it sounded, he felt like he'd sprouted wings and was preparing to take off and fly into the sun like some delirious, nerdy version of Icarus.

"Yeah. I feel like a regular girl here. Normal. Not a…" She lowered her voice. "…spy. Or a CIA agent. Just a girl lost in the romance of the most beautiful city in the world." She immediately reined herself in. "Does that sound stupid?"

"No! No, no. Sarah, not at all." He lifted her hand from the table and kissed it. "It makes sense we're here, I guess. Since we're…" He swallowed and fiddled with the prongs of his fork.

"What?"

"We're a regular couple now."

She giggled. "Sort of."

"Right. Sort of."

She watched him try to mask the melancholy in his eyes and felt a little guilty, so she pulled on his hand and tilted her head. "Come on, Stinker, let's go see your tower."

She tugged him out of _their_ place, as she promised herself she would think of it from that point on, and Chuck groaned. "That's not gonna be a permanent nickname for me now, is it?"

She laughed loudly, throwing a wide grin over her shoulder and running across the street.

}o{

Sarah had tried to warn Chuck about the stairs of the Eiffel Tower, but the man wouldn't listen. He'd insisted on the stairs because of the view, and because he was sure he was in the best shape of his life, thanks to his spy training.

She'd laughed when he told her how many miles he ran sometimes in the morning, and that a few steps would be a piece of cake.

The first level ascent was easy, and they'd paused numerous times to look at the view. Chuck even attempted to start a tickle war at the first flight of stairs that led to the second level. As Sarah raced up the steps to allude him, he followed on her heels and caught her by her arm, spinning her towards him and pulling her in for a passionate kiss. She threaded her fingers in his hair and kissed him back, glad neither of them were particularly afraid of heights.

Sarah teased his mouth open and their tongues met, in no uncertain terms making out on the steps of the Eiffel Tower, their hands exploring each other's bodies in a way that might have been less than appropriate if anyone was watching.

He pulled away gently awhile later, keeping their foreheads pressed together.

"French kissing on the Eiffel Tower, huh?" Sarah panted.

"Oh, hey! That's funny," he said, pointing at her with a big smile on his face. She tilted her face and kissed him again, sliding her hand around him to slip her fingers into the waistband at the back of his jeans.

Chuck jolted a bit. "Hiyo, can't do that in the elevator."

"On the contrary, we _could_." She kissed his neck slowly, earning a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. "But if there are children around, their parents might have a lot of explaining to do later."

Chuck snorted and kissed her again.

Once they hit the second level, quite a long while later on account of multiple amorous encounters much like the first, Chuck assented to the elevator as there really was no other choice to get to the topmost level. And in spite of the two children with their parents who'd joined them inside of the yellow compartment, Sarah had no shame when she wrapped her arms around Chuck and stood hugging him tightly for most of the ride to the top.

When they finally exited the elevator, the deck had only about ten people.

Chuck rushed to the railing, looking more excited than the children who alighted in front of them. "Oh, Sarah!" He spun to her, his grin seemingly lighting up the entire observation deck. "Have you ever seen anything like this? This is amazing!" Then his grin died a little and he smacked his forehead. "Oh right. Duh. 'Course you have."

Sarah shook her head quickly and tucked herself into his side again. His arm wrapped protectively around her shoulder and she shivered pleasantly. "No. Well, I mean, yes I've been up here. But I never really got the chance to look. The two times I came up here, I was meeting a mark. More people watching, less sightseeing."

"You're not a spy right now, Sarah." He turned his head and let his lips lightly graze her temple. "Remember? Today you're just a regular girl. I mean, you'll never really be a regular girl. You'll always be pretty extraordinary to me, but that's beside the point."

She smiled softly at his rambling compliment and turned to tug him against her for another slow and exciting kiss. The wind was pretty powerful all the way at the top of the Eiffel Tower, and it was biting through her jacket, but at the moment, she couldn't feel it.

Chuck's warmth surrounded her, flooded through her veins.

They ignored the stares and laughter around them from the other sightseers. Until finally a teenager whistled to impress his friends and Chuck pulled away, blushing wildly. Sarah sent a playful glare over her nerd's shoulder and made the teens laugh harder before they sauntered off to the elevator.

"Woops," she heard Chuck mumble into her hair.

Pulling back, she furrowed her brow. "Oh, come on. Who cares?"

"I'm uh…not much of a PDA'er. As it were."

"What? First of all, we rounded second base on the way up here more times than I can count on one hand. And secondly…Chuck, we're in the City of PDA."

"Oh? Because I thought it was called the City of Light."

"That too," she shrugged.

He laughed again and leaned close, forgetting that there was an entire side of the observation deck he hadn't seen yet. His hand swept aside her hair, leaving a bit of her neck open for him to brush his lips against.

Sarah's heart raced as she clutched at his biceps. "Chuck, you'd better be careful."

"Mmm, or what?" he mumbled, kissing up her neck a little, his voice rumbling against her skin making her feel overly excited.

"There _are _laws about public indecency."

"Am I being indecent?" he asked.

He was going to drive her mad before this day was through. And she wanted to show him the Musée d'Orsay, damn it. At this rate, they'd be cabbing back to the hotel room for round…Well, she'd lost count.

"Not yet, you aren't. But you do that one more time, and_ I_ might."

He chuckled softly and pulled back.

"Come on, let's go to the other side," she said, holding his hand and leading him around to the side where the view of the river Seine was.

}o{

"You know, Chuck, this is why they invented bridges."

Chuck rolled his eyes and tugged her to the railing of the Batobus boat. "But why am I gonna walk over a bridge when I can get on a boat and be floated directly to my destination? Traveling in style, right?"

"Because the bridge is free?"

"Mm, valid point. _But_ the view is much better from here."

She smirked and looked out at the water, brushing some of the hair that escaped her ponytail out of her face as it was whipped about by the wind. She was glad she'd had the sense to bring a hair tie on her wrist. "Alright, fine. I'll give you that one. It is gorgeous."

"And I can't be in Paris without getting on the river. That's utter sacrilege."

As the boat moved away from the small dock and began rolling down the river, Chuck's arms wound around Sarah's torso and he pulled her back to his front. They were silent for a few short minutes, watching the activity on the other side of the river. People lounged on the benches overlooking the water or jogged along the sidewalk. Dogs were being walked along the paths.

And…

_Oh._

Chuck's hand was sneaking under her jacket. She felt warmth flood through her as he spread his palm over the material of her cotton blouse. When he pushed under the blouse and his fingers met the soft skin of her belly, she let out a soft gasp and bit her lip. It felt as though he'd shot a lightning bolt from his hand into her body, the electricity surging down her arms and legs, frying her brain.

Like…some sort of superhero. Was it one of the X-Men who could control lightning? Or some other comic book character?

She wondered for a moment what Chuck would think if he knew about the particularly nerdy thoughts she'd just had. He would probably row them ashore himself and drag her back to the hotel.

At the moment, as his fingers drew lazy circles against her skin and her heart pounded against her ribcage, and the way his breath was fanning her cheek as he cuddled close, she wasn't sure that was the worst idea.

God, there wasn't another person in the entire world that made her feel this way. It was an uncharacteristically schmaltzy thing for her to think, she knew. But ever since Chuck Bartowski forfeited a conversation with an interested and beautiful woman at the Nerd Herd counter to instead give a little girl the confidence to dance in front of a store full of people and keep her dad out of the doghouse, Sarah had lost the battle. Schmaltzy thoughts were more often than not swirling through her brain when she was with him…and when she wasn't with him, really.

For years following that first meeting, she had looked at it as a curse. Bryce had never made her feel saccharine about anything. She didn't have sappy thoughts about his habits, because she hadn't really paid much attention to them. He hadn't paid attention to hers, either. Their relationship hadn't stripped her of her control. She'd never been compromised with him.

She'd been wrong in thinking that what she'd had with Bryce made her safer than what she had with Chuck. Keeping her emotions trapped in a tiny impenetrable box inside of her heart wasn't as safe as she'd thought. Chuck had opened the box quickly and easily. But instead of taking advantage of what he'd found there, he had cherished it and protected it with every fibre of his being.

Sarah was _truly_ safe the moment she relinquished her whole self to him that night on the floor of his apartment, when she confessed her true feelings. After that he'd tracked her across the globe, somehow uncovering Shaw's plot and finding her before the double agent could get his revenge. Chuck had gone against everything he believed, his vehement disinclination for killing a human being, and he'd shot and killed Daniel Shaw. He'd done it to save her life.

Sarah bit her lip hard to keep the mistiness in her eyes from escaping down her cheeks.

Chuck's fingers suddenly halted for a moment and slid down to tuck under the waistband of her jeans, pulling her out of her revelation.

She reached down and folded her hand over his, sending him a coy look over her shoulder. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Warming my hand."

"Just the one?"

The other hand slipped under the other side of her blouse and she gasped again. She walked right into that one.

"Excusez-moi."

They quite nearly jumped apart, Chuck pulling his hands from beneath her shirt and tucking them into his jean pockets and Sarah wrapping her jacket tighter about her torso. "Oui?" Sarah squeaked.

A middle-aged man with red hair, carrying a French to English translation book in one hand and a pencil in the other, timidly moved next to them. "Uh…er…" He thumbed through the book.

"We speak English," Chuck said helpfully.

"Oh thank God." The man's shoulders sagged and he wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. "I've been trying to get around this place speaking French and I think they all hate me."

Chuck and Sarah both gave good-natured chuckles at his self-disparaging remark.

"You are tourists, then. Like me?"

"More or less," Sarah said.

Chuck watched as the man asked Sarah for directions, refusing to fully relinquish her to the lost tourist as he took her hand and held it tightly. She tossed him a quick smile, then pointed at the man's map. The man thanked her, nodded at Chuck, and sauntered off again.

"I wonder if he saw what we were doing," Chuck mused quietly.

Sarah peered up at him, raising an eyebrow and fighting the urge to run her fingers through his curls as they whipped about in the wind. "What _we _were doing? You were the one doing all the doing."

"I'm sorry. Repeat that sentence again?"

"Shut up."

Chuck gasped in amused shock, setting his fingers to her sides and beginning to tickle her. She fought off a squeal and tried to grab his hands but he pulled out of it. He knew she could stop him if she'd really wanted to.

Her hands finally clamped hard on his wrists and pressed them to his side, a dangerous glare in her flashing blue eyes. He swallowed hard, and tried to ignore how incredibly hot she looked when she was playing angry.

As if she knew where his thoughts had strayed, a small smirk stretched her lips. "You know I could kick your ass if I wanted to, right?"

"Yeeeah," he breathed dreamily, a grin plastered on his face.

She giggled, all too aware of the effect he had on her when he smiled that way.

She'd spent so many years in the semi-misogynistic intelligence game, surrounded by copious amounts of testosterone and overblown egos, men who underestimated her no matter how many times she kicked their asses, or mistook her good looks for a lack of intelligence. And while that tended to work in her favor during missions, it left her constantly feeling like she'd always be one step behind agents who lacked her talent and skill but earned promotions because they were men. Men like Bryce, who had been one of the best spies she'd ever known, but still never quite treated her as an equal. That much had been obvious when he decided not to trust her all those years ago, abandoning her and going rogue instead of enlisting her help.

And then there was Chuck. He was fully aware that she knew about one hundred ways to get him on his back, and he'd never even know it was coming. But Chuck wasn't intimidated by her abilities. He'd joked about it, his eyes bugging out when she flipped up her pants leg to reveal her trusty knives attached to her calf.

He didn't run in fear like Lester had when she'd quite nearly climbed the stringy-haired Nerd Herder like a tree in the Weinerlicious. Granted, she'd been trying to terrorize the living daylights out of him, and she'd succeeded completely.

In fact, she had a feeling her athleticism and spy skills excited Chuck. Her assumption was confirmed when he leaned forward and kissed her slowly. She smiled against his lips and framed his face with her hands. There was an incredible confidence in the way he accepted she could take care of herself _and _him, while still coming through for her in such a crucial way like he had last night. She felt silly for thinking it, but she found this particular attribute to be refreshing…and sexy.

With that in mind, she stepped even closer and deepened the kiss, unaware that they'd reached the other dock until it bumped against the wood and nearly sent them sprawling over the side.

She'd been completely distracted but luckily Chuck had been able to get his bearings enough to reach out and steady them both against the railing, one arm protectively wrapped around her waist.

"Woops. We're here."

"Yeah, I guess so," Sarah giggled, blushing a bit. She didn't let much keep her from being aware of her surroundings, but apparently Chuck (particularly Chuck's lips) ended up being one of those things.

They disembarked and strolled to the Louvre. It was massive, majestic and awe-inspiring. And Chuck, for one, wouldn't go inside until he'd looked at everything outside. His exuberance and exclamations were enough to pull Sarah into a similar mood, until finally they got inside and the hush of the occupants overcame them both.

"Ever see any Jean-Luc Godard films?" he asked in a soft voice, his lips brushing against her ear. She shivered a bit and smiled up at him, shaking her head. "Really?"

"Shh," she warned when his voice echoed a bit in the first room.

"Sorry," he whispered. "But you haven't seen any Godard? French new wave. Nineteen-sixties. Existentialism at its best. All the kids who wanna be cool 'like' his movies," Chuck said, throwing up the bunny ears. "But I mean, you take that away, and they're really just great films. You'd like 'em."

"I would?"

"Mhm." They stopped at a drawing of a woman playing a lute sitting on what looked like a giant crocodile. "That's one way to travel," he mused, causing her to giggle and send him a look. "What?"

"You're one of _those _people, huh? I should've known."

"One of what people?"

"The ones who make jokes about all of the artwork?"

"What? Come on. She's riding a crocodile while playing a lute. That's actually awesome, Sarah."

She rolled her eyes and grinned, walking away from him, but grabbing his hand. At the moment, it seemed that even a few feet of distance between her and Chuck just wouldn't do.

"So why'd you bring up Jean…Uh, this French new wave filmmaker guy, anyway?" she whispered.

He shrugged. "There's this scene in one of his films that takes place in the Louvre."

"Hm. Existentialism. Let me guess. They have in-depth conversations about how the paintings reflect the emptiness of the human soul?" She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows at him. Chuck squeezed her hand with a chuckle.

"No. They run through the museum trying to break the record for the fastest time getting through all of the rooms."

"Really?"

This time it was Chuck's turn to shush her and she made a face at him when he stuck his tongue through his teeth and grinned.

"What's the record?" she asked curiously.

"I don't know. Don't remember. Somewhere in the nine minute range? I just remember it looked kinda fun." He narrowed his eyes at the next drawing from the Rothschild collection.

"Hm."

Sarah tugged on him then and began running down the hall. He had no choice but to follow. "Sarah! What are you doing?" he rasped, but her only answer was to toss him a smoldering grin over her shoulder.

Abandoning all sense of decency and embarrassment, he sped up until he was running beside her, their jackets flapping behind them. Sarah pulled him through room after room, earning them incensed looks and flabbergasted stares. Still, they kept running, passing bronze statues, ancient Egyptian artifacts, portraits, landscapes, 17th century furniture, _16__th_century furniture, guards yelling at them in French to stop running…

Sarah swung him around a corner and they halted. A giant tour was taking place, clogging the room with about thirty to forty people.

The couple looked at each other breathlessly, then back at the tour. A few of them looked away from the French-accented guide and stared at the intrusive pair at the entrance to the room.

Sarah and Chuck looked at each other again, then with a subtle shake of Sarah's head which he understood implicitly, they barked laughter and burst out of the room, into the hallway, running away from the stunned tourists.

"I think we're already behind," Chuck laughed, panting.

"We've got this!"

"What makes you so sure?"

She rushed into a room with pantings that towered over twenty feet in height and spanned about thirty feet in length. "I'm pretty sure the people in your New Wave movie weren't spies." She winked over her shoulder and he wondered if there was even one person in the entire universe as exciting as Sarah Walker.

}o{

"Ten minutes isn't bad." Sarah tugged the hair tie out of her hair, fluffed the long, blonde mane, and pulled it back up again.

"Not bad?" Chuck panted, leaning against the nearest wall outside of the museum and leaning his hands on his knees. "Jesus! That museum is freakin' giant."

"I'm sure they cut a few scenes from the movie," she reasoned teasingly, out of breath but not suffering nearly as much as her companion.

"Apparently!" he huffed, easing himself back up to his full height again. "Was the sun out before? Is that the sun?" he whined pitifully, rapidly blinking his eyes.

Laughing, she helped him shrug his jacket off, leaving him in his olive green long-sleeved shirt. He pushed the sleeves up past his elbows and coughed a bit. "I see spots. Are you getting spots in your vision? It didn't hurt this bad when we were running. Oh-hooo."

She continued to laugh, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "You'll be fine. But apparently the only thing keeping you upright that whole time was adrenaline."

"God, that was so fun, though. But maybe we should get outta here before the guards catch up to us."

"Pfft. They don't care. We're not even in the museum anymore. We didn't touch any of the artwork. That's all they really care about," she said, taking his hand and leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

His fingertips slipped up the sleeve of her jacket and stroked her wrist. It was a small thing, she knew, but the intimacy of it left her heart feeling fuller than it had ever felt in her life. And as she pulled back, looking up at her nerd, his breaths coming out in intermittent coughs, she realized how hopelessly in love she was.

And instead of speaking the words, she swept him up in her arms and hugged him tightly, tucking her face into his shoulder, his jacket still clutched in her hand. He hugged her back immediately, and they stayed that way for awhile.

"Come on," she said, pulling away and grabbing his hand again, directing them along the south pathway towards the river.

"Where we goin'?" he asked, liking that she was carrying his jacket, and the way she was half-snuggling it against her body. He smiled widely and allowed her to pull him along. She shot him a quick look then peered back and forth before they trotted together across the street.

"Wait, wait, wait. As much as I love blindly allowing a beautiful woman to pull me around gay Paris," he said in a flamboyant French accent, "I'd like at least a hint."

"We're going to the Musée d'Orsay."

He groaned. "We were just at a museum," he quite nearly whined as they walked along the railing towards the bridge they'd need to use to cross the Seine where the museum awaited them.

"We didn't even look at anything, though! We ran through it!"

"Which was fun!"

"It _was_ fun. But I actually wanna look at these paintings."

Recognizing the sincerity in her plea, he gave her a slightly crooked smile. "Sarah Walker, an art appreciator."

"Surprised?" she asked, draping his coat over her shoulder with a bit of a flourish and walking backwards, pulling him along the sidewalk.

"Not so much. You're a pretty classy lady." He reveled in her throaty chuckle. "So why this museum?"

"Impressionism is my favorite."

"You mean like Monet and _Man_et? Degas and Renoir?" He gave her his special Chuck smolder that he'd perfected early that morning during one of their resting periods. It had resulted in the resting periods being not all that restful.

She flashed her bright blue eyes and pursed her lips. "Impressive, Bartowski."

"You mean…impressionisive, of course."

Sarah laughed heartily and tried to think of the last time she'd felt so free to enjoy the moment. _This morning_, her subconscious reminded her. She gave him a strong tug and leaned against the railing of the bridge, curling her fists into his shirt and bringing his lips to hers.

There was a chance she might be in the mood to skip the museum and take a cab back to their hotel, but she was suddenly struck with the fear that being in that grandiose room might make time move faster. She knew that tonight they'd have to contact Beckman. And soon after that they'd have to leave this paradise.

Shoving that thought out of her mind, she rounded his neck with one arm and pulled him even closer, blocking everything around her except for the feel of him. When their lips parted, Chuck let out a ragged breath and she smirked in satisfaction that she could have that effect on him. She wasn't exactly steady on her feet either after that, so she clung a bit tighter as her knees attempted to solidify once more.

"And now you wanna go look at _paintings_?" he asked quietly.

"Mm," she giggled. "I dunno. Impressionism is pretty sexy."

"Never struck me as particularly—HEY!"

In a flash, Sarah had Chuck's jacket draped over his head and she was running away from him, laughing like a ninny and amusing the other people walking along the bridge sidewalk.

Chuck tugged the jacket off of his head and grinned so hard his face almost split, his hair mussed even further. He sped off after her, able to catch up rather quickly because of the heels she wore. But she wasn't exactly trying very hard to get away from him.

With one last burst of speed, Chuck lunged forward and grabbed her around her waist from behind. She squealed softly and clung to his arms as he lifted her up in a surprising bout of strength. "Give?" he called out, still laughing.

"Put me down!"

"Not 'til you give!"

"Give!" she threw over her shoulder and he lowered her slowly, keeping his arms around her waist. He kissed her temple tenderly and she took advantage of his distraction, easily spinning out of his arms, twisting rapidly to force him to bend over, and tugging him against her in a headlock.

He made a choking sound as he found his face pressed against her side.

"Give?" she asked with no small amount of snark.

"Gah-Gah…_ack…_" was all he managed.

"Not until you give," she replied in a sing-songy voice.

"G-Give. I give," he choked out.

She leaned down and kissed his temple, letting him out of the headlock and smirking, her arms crossed. He pressed his lips together and puffed out his cheeks, putting his hands on his hips and staring at her.

"That wasn't very nice."

She shrugged, looking up at the sky innocently.

_God, she's cute_, Chuck mused to himself. "I'm never going to win at that game unless you let me, am I?"

"No." She shrugged again. "Is that okay?" She grinned, folding her hands together behind her back.

"I can handle it. As long as…"

"As long as what?"

"This." He sauntered up to her and took her hand, taking the time to stroke her wrist with his fingers first. Then he set his other hand to her cheek and gently kissed her forehead. He kissed her nose then, and finally her lips.

"It's a deal," she answered quickly, pointing a finger at him. "Now put that jacket on."

"I'm still a bit warm."

"They usually have the air on in there and it can get chilly."

"Oh, come on. I can't handle a little air conditioning? Please."

* * *

**A/N: **That's it! No, that's not it. I had to split it into two chapters. It was too long. And strange that this was where I meant to split it and without consulting with me at all, **dettiot **posted it on tumblr splitting it IN THIS SAME EXACT PLACE! Weird, right? We had an awesome brain link. Or maybe she's telepathic.

Oh, and I have to say. This story was so much hard work. And there was some stress involved, as well as a little random hilarity. Like the time I was in Paris on Google Street-view and got stuck under the bridge next to the Louvre. How I got under that bridge, I'll never know. But no matter how many times I clicked on the stairs, I couldn't get back up.

Hope you enjoyed part one! Stay tuned for part two! Oh, and leave one of those review thingies. I like those.


	2. Part 2

**A/N: **You didn't think I'd make you wait _that _long, did you? But of course not!

Thank you SO so much for everyone who reviewed the first part. You're all so wonderful and lovely. I know I thanked you each individually, but I'm not allowed to thank guest reviewers. So to all of you, I offer the heartiest of thank you's! And a bouquet of cyber gardenias.

Also, I need, nay I _want _to thank my beta extraordinaire, the one and only **D****ispatchesFromDistrict7 **for doing an epic read through of this massive monster of a submission before I submitted it. She gave me the guidance I needed and I'm awfully grateful! (Unfortunately, she couldn't get me out from under the bridge, but that was my problem...)

And so! Without further ado...part deux...

* * *

"Geez, you'd think we were on Mars with the way they crank the AC in here," Chuck complained in Sarah's ear as she stared at a woman in a flowing white dress, standing at the crest of a hill with an umbrella.

She turned and tilted her head to the side. "Well, zip your jacket up. Here." She reached out and did it for him, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and smile. "Better?"

"I can't tell. Maybe you should do that last part again."

As much as she enjoyed his cheeky grin, she turned back to the painting and moved to the next one. "God, this is beautiful. Look at the strokes in this one," she breathed, reaching back to grab Chuck's arm and pull him a little closer.

"Stroke me, stroke me!" he sang softly.

"What?"

"It's a song. You've never heard that song? The Stroke. Billy Squier. Stroooke meh, stroke meh! Beehh behhh!" he sang with a bit more accuracy, strumming an air guitar and scrunching up his features in his own rendition of a bad ass rockstar face. "Are you serious? Sarah Walker, you are seriously an enigma."

She giggled quietly. "I'm sorry, but it doesn't really sound like the type of song I would listen to."

"See, now we're getting somewhere. What type of song _would _you listen to?"

Sarah stopped at another painting, pointing up at it. "Look at the way the waves almost seem to be moving. And then if you back up…" She took a few steps back and dragged him with her. "It looks totally different. It's amazing."

"That's actually pretty awesome. But you didn't answer my question."

"I'm not a music person, Chuck. I don't know what music I like because I really don't listen to it all that much."

"But you just said—"

"Chuck. Paintings. We're in a museum, not Hard Rock Cafe."

He leaned down and quickly brushed a kiss over her neck and she gasped, sending him a faux glare. "We're in a museum, Chuck!" she rasped.

"So you keep saying."

With a smirk, she led him into the next room. They spent hours moving through the museum, and not once did they break contact. If Chuck wasn't stroking the small of her back while he listened to her rave about the light that reflected off of Monet's water, their hands were clasped tightly together.

They stopped to eat a salad at the Café Compana, sitting directly next to the large clock face that was the focal point of the trendy little museum eatery, then they continued through the other floors of the museum.

Halfway through, as if he was beginning to get bored (like a child, she mused) he started finding ways to surprise her. At first it was a soft stroke up her arm as he moved to her side, or bumping her hip with his. Then he stood directly behind her and began whispering things about the paintings, things that meant he was actively paying attention to the artwork and not just going through the motions to be a tolerant boyfriend.

_Boyfriend?_

Sarah pushed that out of her head for the moment.

She had no problem admitting, the fact that he was into the art, studying the brushstrokes and commenting into her ear in that deep whisper of his—it was in no uncertain terms turning her on.

Sarah reached into her spy bag of tricks to distract herself from the way the back of his hand would drag across her hip when he shifted his weight to look at a painting in a different light. Or how she'd catch herself staring when he'd run his hand through his curls, or lick his lips. Then he'd taken off his jacket and held it in his hands.

He'd been so cold because of the air conditioner before, so she knew he'd taken the jacket off in the hope of teasing her. He must have noticed this morning her appreciation of the muscles his torso and arms had accumulated over the last year. He'd probably noted the fact that she'd taken to squeezing his biceps while they…

"Okay, now _this _is my favorite. This is just awesome."

Sarah snapped to attention and looked at the painting Chuck was pointing to. She flushed a little and stepped closer. "Winslow Homer, huh? I can see you as a Winslow Homer kind of guy."

"That a good thing?" Chuck pursed his lips.

"Mhm. Maybe sometime I'll show you other paintings he's done. You'd like them."

"Well I like this one." He gestured at the silhouetted figures sitting in the background on the beach, shrouded in shadow as the two brightly lit figures danced in the foreground. "The other people in the painting are looking out towards the water, outside of this little light bubble that these two are in. It's almost like they're dancing in their own little world, or something."

She just beamed at him for awhile. Chuck turned to peer at her. "What?"

"You're enjoying yourself."

"So?"

"It's kinda cute."

"What, you think I'm only nerdy when it comes to computers, scifi, comic books and video games? If I'm a nerd about all of those things, I'm pretty sure it's a safe bet I'm nerdy about a whole butt load of other things. Like art, for instance. Not modern art so much. I mean, it's very unoriginal for me to say, but I just don't get it."

As they finished up the last room, Sarah reached to pick up Chuck's left wrist, glancing at his watch. She had her own watch on, but this had given her a reason to lean close to him and touch him again. "We, uh…We might want to head back to the hotel, I think."

Chuck was silent for awhile, staring at the door that led outside again, into the streets of Paris. They'd be leaving them soon, hopping on a plane back to LAX, back to Burbank, back to their lives as CIA agents.

He felt fear prickle at his neck, and his heart beat faster.

He had to wonder if anything would change once they got back. Would Sarah fold back into her agent mode again, keeping a professional distance from him? Would Beckman or Casey find out about them being in love and drive a wedge between them?

"I suppose it is, yeah," he murmured quietly. He gave her a reassuring smile and kissed her forehead again. "Let's get outta here, Sarah Walker."

She smiled lovingly and reached up to brush a curl from his forehead. Part of her was excited to get back to the privacy of their hotel. But another part of her mourned for the way time had seemed to speed up as the day progressed. Their day of freedom, their day as a _regular couple_…it was all drawing to a close. Reality would set in.

And then what would happen to them?

Deciding not to dwell, she snuggled into his side as they walked, tucking her face into his shirt and shutting her eyes, trusting him to guide her along for the time being and instead focusing on the warmth of his arm slung possessively over her shoulder.

}o{

As they passed their little spot beneath the vines, they noticed a small quartet had settled in the corner, playing a warm, melancholy tune as a handful of couples moved slowly across the brick ground to the guitar's plucky rhythm, swaying with the soft whining of the violin and heartfelt rumble of the cello, gracefully moving their feet to the beautiful tones of the accordion.

Chuck recognized the tune. It was the Pavane for a Dead Princess. A bit morbid for a Parisian quartet to play, albeit an incredibly beautiful melody. "Your spot's pretty popular nowadays," he murmured in her ear, noticing the way her eyes were glued to the dancing couples.

"Our spot," she corrected distractedly, slipping her hand into his and tugging him beneath the vine covering. He frowned a little as she pulled him into a little space between two tables. "Dance with me."

"I—I'm not much of a dancer, remember?"

"I seem to remember some pretty sexy moves when you saved a dictator from being egged."

"You know that was the Intersect, Sarah," he said quietly, his eyes darting around them nervously.

She shrugged. "Dance with me."

"You want me to flash?" he asked in a harsh whisper, flabbergasted.

"Chuck, no." She grabbed his hands and put them in the right places on her hips, stepped into his embrace and rounded his shoulders with her arms. "You don't have to be Fred Astaire for this, Chuck. I promise."

He narrowed his eyes teasingly and pulled her closer. They swayed softly to the music, their cheeks pressed together, eyes shut.

Sarah knew she should be surveying the area around them. Chuck was the Intersect, after all. And just the night before, the Ring had threatened both of their lives in a place not too far from here. The chance that every Ring agent was captured by Casey and his team was slim at best.

Against her better judgment, she pushed those thoughts away. She was dancing with the man she loved most in the world, in the place she loved most in the world, and his morning scruff was scratching pleasantly against her cheek—a sensation she'd never thought she'd have the opportunity to enjoy only a few weeks ago. Sarah reminded herself that she vowed she would never bring work into this peaceful little nook, and so she would keep to that promise.

Her eyes stayed resolutely shut as she nuzzled her nose against the underside of his jaw and felt more of the delicious scratching of stubble from the morning. He had planned on shaving while she showered, but the shower had turned into an interesting showcase of flexibility—much different than the first time they'd taken a shower together. A lack of powdered fruit punch for instance.

As the song ended, they didn't step away from each other as the other couples did. They merely turned so that their sides kept pressed together, walking slowly out of their little Parisian spot and back onto the street.

As they walked towards the bus stop, Chuck's stomach grumbled. He'd since draped his arm over Sarah's shoulders, so when he tugged his wrist closer to look at the time, her face was awkwardly pressed into his chest. She let out a muffled something or other and he chuckled.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"What time is it, I asked."

"Oh. It's about 3:45."

Her face lost a bit of its luster and her eyes dimmed as she squinted out into the street. Chuck knew precisely what was going through her mind. Their day as a regular couple was just about over. It left his heart feeling a little heavy as well.

_This will not do._

His eyes fastened on a food cart across the street with an array of miniature cakes and tortes in elegant glass domes lined along the counters. Without saying a word, he glanced left and right and led her into the street. He jogged them to the cart.

"What are you doing?" she asked, eyeing the treats as he gestured gracefully at the food.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"A little, yeah, but I thought we'd just eat at the airp—" She cut herself off, being reminded of their obligations to the CIA once again.

"Nope. We're having a snack now. Dinner be damned. We can eat whatever we want, whenever we want and nobody can say a thing about it." He grinned in that infectious way of his and she was flooded with a warmth she'd gotten used to since knowing him, a warmth she'd never known before him.

"A snack is…I dunno, an apple. These are cakes, Chuck."

He pulled her closer and looked at the mouth-watering treats. "Alright, Mom," he laughed. "Come on, A—Er, Sarah." He blushed a little at his near slip. "Let's live a little. Let's have dessert at 3:45. It's on me."

She shook her head and shrugged. Any reason to keep the day going longer. "Fine. What kind?"

"You choose."

She furrowed her brow at him and began making a show of looking over the treats. The cart had everything in miniature—from bite-sized cookies and tortes the size of her palm to tiny square wedges of cake, all of which looked delectable. In the end, she chose a cranberry and apple tart with the crust reaching up around the fruit and enclosing it in a steaming, powdery bit of heaven.

As they waited for the tiny old Frenchwoman to wrap it up, Chuck turned to smile at Sarah excitedly. "This reminds me of the time Morgan and I walked to the shopping mall when we were twelve, all alone, no chaperone, no Ellie—and we ate banana splits for dinner and burgers for dessert. We felt like such bad asses."

She laughed, losing herself in images of a gangly, curly-headed, twelve-year-old version of Chuck walking next to a pip-squeak, mop-headed, beardless twelve-year-old Morgan, eating banana splits and high fiving each other or something.

Sarah mused that not much had changed there.

With the tart deposited in an adorable, flowered box and wrapped with string, they left the cart hand-in-hand and continued on their way to the bus stop, their treat hanging from Chuck's fingers.

"Sarah."

"Hm?"

Chuck tugged her to a stop suddenly and she turned around, quickly stepping so that their fronts were pressed together. He looked into her eyes and took her hands, the warmth emanating from the tart evident against her arm.

When he didn't say anything, her eyes darted between his, a slightly unsure look on her face.

For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder about this woman. She was letting him see her emotions, and had been all day. There was no spy mask, no walls shielding him from her feelings. She'd made herself vulnerable to him. She was actively trusting him and there was no greater gift in the world, Chuck thought to himself. It felt better than anything he could ever imagine.

Then his mind went back to the morning and the feeling of her muscled, strong limbs encircling him, her soft skin against him, and the things she did with her confident hands. Feeling a bit out of breath, he decided that, no, _that_ had been the best feeling ever.

He thought of himself leading her onto a plane, and the way they'd have to sit side by side, together…but _not_ at the same time…heading home to a situation unknown to either of them. After everything they'd been through in the last twenty four hours, Chuck decided that wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want this to end yet. He wasn't ready, and he thought maybe she wasn't either.

"I don't want this to end."

The unsure look melted into one of deep sadness and she looked down at their fronts pressed together. "Chuck, we don't know what will happen when we get back to Burbank." Her voice was suddenly soft and tired.

"Exactly!" He squeezed her fingers reassuringly. "Three years, Sarah. Three years of almosts and mistakes and lying to ourselves, dodging around each other. I'm done with all of that. I know what it's like to be with you now and I'm not giving that up. Not now. Not for anything. I say we don't get on the plane tonight."

"What?" A spark of hope ignited in her clear blue eyes, and a corner of her lips tilted up.

"Let's not get on that plane. At least not yet. Sarah, I don't wanna fall asleep tonight without being able to hold you in my arms. That's so cheesy, I know, but it's true. And I can't do that in a plane. Not even first class."

She chuckled, a wondrous sound that erupted from deep within her and sent a flame of adoration bursting through him. He ran with it and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her to him so that her arms were trapped against his chest. She didn't seem to mind as she snuggled a bit closer.

"That's true. So what are you proposing, Mr. Bartowski?"

"Sarah Walker, would you like to see Europe with me?"

A look of awe fell over her beautiful features and she seemed to not know what to say to that, so Chuck continued. A desperate attempt to bring her to his way of thinking.

"You won't be a CIA agent looking to meet a mark, pursuing a bad guy, or…whatever else you'd be doing for your job. You'll be a regular girl—a woman on vacation—traveling Europe with a regular guy. We can take what we had in that little spot—_our spot_—and just, you know, just extend the boundaries a few hundred miles. No work. No guns. Just us. We'll be together, and frankly, at the moment, that's really all I care about."

"This plan doesn't exactly solve the us-not-sleeping-in-each-other's-arms-tonight problem."

"I seem to remember hearing about European trains having compartments with beds. Sleeper-trains! We can get on one tonight!"

"And go where, Chuck? We're supposed to be in Burbank tomorrow." The look in her eyes, the way he could almost feel her heart racing against his chest, all of it belied her words. Even the tone in her voice had picked up a spark of excitement.

"We'll get there…eventually. I don't care where we go. Let's just go _somewhere_. I don't care if I end up in Marrakesh or freakin' Zimbabwe. I just wanna be with you." He tightened his grip around her waist and leaned his forehead against hers so that he could nuzzle her nose.

Sarah's eyes slipped shut and she fought not to lose herself in the moment. She had to be the strong one between the two. She'd been an agent for most of her life. She knew where this would lead, and she was almost certain it would lead to heartbreak. Once they arrived in Burbank, there was a chance the job would cut them off from each other. While it was a prospect she couldn't bear the thought of, she knew she had to be prepared for it. But maybe…maybe not yet.

"Sarah," he whispered, and she opened her eyes to look in his amber gaze. "This has been the best day of my life. Let's not stop now. Just a little longer. Please."

Well, who the hell was she to deny him? Her thought was emphasized by his lips brushing softly against hers. "God, how can I say no?"

It had just come out. She'd meant to sigh, and instead there had been words. Words she'd been thinking, but she really hadn't wanted them to come out. And she sounded so hopeless and needy. But she _was_ hopeless and needy. He'd made her that way, hadn't he? And that was okay, wasn't it?

Chuck's eyes were lit in excitement, and he leaned his head back a bit to look into her face. "You really can't, Sarah Walker. People have tried."

"Have they?"

"Mhm. They have. I've got powers of persuasion. A bit of this." He wiggled his eyebrows. "And this." He tilted his head and his big brown eyes became like those of a puppy dog, his pout nearly sending her into a fit of apoplexy. "And a little of this." He tightened his grip on her even more and lowered his lips to her ear, blowing softly. She gasped and her eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head when his teeth lightly nipped on her earlobe. His hands were lowering dangerously close to her backside when she wiggled out of his grasp and playfully smacked his chest.

"Hey! Watch it, Bartowski."

"What'd I do?" he shrugged, the mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What'd I say about indecent behavior?"

"I was being indecent?" His faux innocence and the way his eyes brightened with each passing moment…Well it was just about all she could take, really.

"Chuck, you were about to grab my ass in the middle of the sidewalk."

"City of PDA, right?"

She laughed. "Uh…ass-grabbing is a bit more like…" She paused. "It's something reserved for a more private…intimate moment." To emphasize her point, she reached up and straightened his jacket, then ruffled his hair.

"Liiike, maybe in a compartment in a sleeper-train that's headed from Paris to Zurich?" He shoved his hands in his jean pockets.

"Let's do it."

"What?"

She smiled. "Let's do it. Let's go."

"You really mean it?" He stepped closer to her, ignoring the people sending them blatant looks of curiosity as they passed.

A heady look of resolve crossed her features and she framed his face with her hands. "Chuck Bartowski, do you wanna see Europe by sleeper-train with me?"

"I do," he answered immediately. "Do you, Sarah Walker, wanna see Europe by sleeper-train with _me_?"

"I _so_ do."

They laughed and embraced, kissing each other senseless. An elderly French couple passed by and cheered, apparently having assumed Chuck and Sarah had just become engaged. But at the moment, as their lips dueled and the line between PDA and private intimate moment blurred, neither of the young lovers cared what people thought.

They would be together for just a little while longer. And that was all that mattered.

}o{

A satisfied grin stretched across her face as she moaned and lowered herself back down to lie on Chuck's chest, rounding his torso with her arms as best she could as she tried to regain her breath.

Sarah stretched out her legs and tangled them up with his, feeling Chuck's hands slide up and down her back, hugging her close as she buried her face under his chin. Their labored breathing was in sync, their chests rising and falling together. There was a hitch in Chuck's breath and she arched her back to peer down at him. "Am I crushing you?" she asked, her voice a little hoarse.

She realized that Chuck's ribbing earlier was warranted. He teased her that she was very vocal during sex and she'd elbowed him, a little miffed. The truth was, when she'd had enough control over her senses to listen, she'd found that his observation was pretty accurate. She'd never been vocal before Chuck, but she would just add that to the list of things he'd brought out in her.

"Mm, no," he replied with a silly close-mouthed smile, his arms tightening around her to keep from moving away. When he felt her shiver a bit, he reached down and grappled for the sheet, his fingers sliding against her bare thigh until he came in contact with the bed sheet. He pulled it up over them and rounded her body with his arm again, squeezing her and turning his head to give her temple a soft kiss.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, silent and content, their hands stroking circles on each other's skin.

"Chuck?"

"Hm?"

"We forgot about the tart."

"Aww phooey." That got a laugh out of her. "It's probably still warm, though, right?"

She pulled her arms out from beneath his back and propped herself up on the mattress with her hands on either side of his body, turning to look over her shoulder at the wall clock. "Well, we bought it two hours ago, so probably not."

"T—" He leaned up on his elbows and tugged her down against him so that he could see the clock as well, causing her to squeak in surprise and laugh a bit. "Two hours? Okay, that's impressive. You have to be a little impressed right?" Chuck settled back against the pillows and grinned cheekily, folding his arms behind his head and wiggling his eyebrows.

Sarah raised an eyebrow and smirked, rolling off of him and noticing with no small amount of pleasure that he frowned a little disappointedly. She settled close to him, though, turning on her side to press against him and using his bicep as a pillow. "Impressed isn't really the word I'd use."

He turned his head. "Huh? What word _would _you use?" he asked flirtingly.

"Surprised."

She squealed when he flipped over to pin her against the mattress, laughing loudly as he tickled her, his fingers wreaking havoc along her sides. "Chuck, stop!" He was relentless as he moved even lower, closer to her belly button. "Stop!" she laughed.

Suddenly she slung a leg over him, rounding his neck with an arm. Using her other leg, she turned so that they were both on their sides, one of Chuck's arms pinned beneath their bodies and the other held tightly over his head in her sturdy grip.

With wide eyes and a slowly spreading grin, he peered into her blue eyes that were flashing dangerously. Her lips were upturned in mirth, just enough for him to know she was playing. "That was way too easy for you," he deadpanned. "Are you surprised? I _did _tell you to stop." She took a long, deep breath to control her racing heart from their short but vigorous tickle skirmish.

"Surprised isn't really the word I'd use."

She narrowed her eyes but decided to play along. "And what word would you use?"

"It's not really a word as much as _mmmph_!" He suddenly buried his face in her neck with a muffled murmur, kissing her skin sloppily and enjoying the throaty laughter this incited. She let go of his arm that was still pinned above their heads and slapped his shoulder halfheartedly.

His lips stilled when they both heard the low rumble from below. Chuck grinned, running his teeth up her jaw to her ear and nipping a bit on her earlobe. "Hungry?"

"Shut up, that was totally you." He smirked as he heard the breathless tone in her voice, kissed her just below her ear and shot his tongue out to taste the skin there. He felt more than heard her breath hitch.

"No it wasn't," he muttered.

"It _was_."

The sound happened again and he leaned up to hover over her, smiling a bit sheepishly. "Okay, so you're right. So sue me. We haven't eaten since the museum."

She let out a one-syllable chuckle then turned her head, spotting the treat in its pretty little box sitting a few feet away on the antique dresser where the bedside lamp was. She lazily flopped an arm out and let it drape off the edge of the bed. "Mmm. I can't reach it," she whined softly.

Chuck laughed. "Oh, really? You look like you're trying pretty hard."

Sarah smiled a little, then lifted her arm again, straining her muscles and wiggling her fingers. The tart was still about a foot out of her reach. "Mm mm. Nope. Can't reach it."

"You know, if you were Mister—ahem, _Miss_ Fantastic—this might solve all of our problems," Chuck replied, quietly imagining what the last two hours would have been like if she had Reed Richards' abilities and could twist, reshape and bend her limbs—

He shook his head of the cobwebs when she made a scoffing noise. "You just made a comic book reference, didn't you?"

"I did."

"And what superpowers did you just give me?"

"In the comic or in my head?"

She laughed with her tongue between her teeth, getting the gist of that statement. Obviously Chuck Bartowski's mind had wandered into the X-Rated realm for a moment. "Comic, and, uh, I think I can figure out what went on in your head." To emphasize her point, she wiggled a little under him, smirking when he swallowed thickly.

"Mister Fantastic is elastic. He can bend himself and stretch himself in any way he wants to and—"

"I, uh, get the gist." She knew exactly where his mind had wandered to and was mildly turned on by it. Though she'd never admit it out loud, not when she was this hungry. "Chuck?"

"Hm?" He was distracted by the expanse of neck she'd exposed to his lips when she turned to look at the flowery box on the antique bedside table.

"Can you get it?"

"Get what?" he asked, muffled against her neck.

She let out a soft sigh and pointed with the same arm that was draped over the side of the bed. "S'il vous plaît?"

"Sarah! That's French!" He assaulted her shoulder with his lips, dotting kisses all the way down her arm, taking the time to kiss each of her fingers, then her palm.

She grinned. "Get the food, Gomez."

"Wait." He propped himself up, his ministrations forgotten for the moment. "You know the Addams Family?"

"I haven't been living under a rock, Chuck. Come on." She paused. "Get the tart, nerd!"

With a reluctant grumble of "bossy", he pushed himself off of her and felt much better when he saw the admiring glance she gave his torso as he reached over with his long arm and plucked the box off of the table by its strings. "Ta daaa," he sang, letting it dangle over her.

She teasingly shoved him away and pulled herself up to sit against the headboard, reaching out and wiggling her fingers at the box. "Open it. I'm starving."

"Sheesh, I guess so." With a laugh, Chuck popped open the box. His stomach grumbled again when he saw the delicious treat inside. He salivated as the smell of apple and cranberry and sugar assailed his senses. He reached in and lifted the treat out of the box, holding it with both hands between himself and Sarah and smelling it deeply. "Ahhhh…"

"Don't. Don't do the ninja turtles pizza thing again."

"I wasn't—"

"Yes, you were! You always do it!"

"Only with pizza!"

She made a face.

"Fiiine." He smirked and leaned forward to peck her lips softly. Then he took a large bite out of the side of the tart, letting the flavors combine on his tongue and shutting his eyes in ecstasy. He'd never tasted anything quite like it and he couldn't hold back the moan of utter delight.

Sarah watched and licked her lips a bit. Taking his face in her hands, she surged forward and kissed him, tasting the apple and cranberry in his mouth, licking the stray powdered sugar from his lips. She ended the kiss a minute later, leaving him absolutely awestruck, then turned her face and took a bite, supporting the tart with one hand braced under Chuck's.

"Mmm, you're right. This is the best thing ever," she spoke messily around the tart rolling about in her mouth. "Aaand, we're never gonna find that food cart again, soooo…we better enjoy this as much as we can…"

He opened his mouth and watched her closely. Her eyes flashed mischievously and her smirk was incredibly wide as she finished chewing and swallowed. Their gazes met before their eyes slipped simultaneously down to the tart hovering between them.

Sarah's fingers rubbed sensually against the back of his hand and Chuck grinned so hard he thought his face might break.

_I'm one lucky nerd._

}o{

"So the 8:30 train at Montparnasse? Final answer?" Chuck asked. He was leaning against the headboard of the bed, his knees bent and the sheet pulled up to his waist. Sarah was nestled comfortably between his legs, leaning back against his chest. He held his iPhone in front of them both, his arms rounding her figure and his chin resting on her shoulder.

Chuck turned to kiss under her jaw and she smiled, swiveling her face a little to peer at him. "Final answer."

"Good. That gives us an hour." He tossed his phone to the end of the bed and squeezed her tighter against him, resting his hands on her belly. She covered his hands and sighed, enjoying the feeling of his mouth moving along the underside of her jaw, up her face to her temple and back down again to claim her lips.

"We should eat dinner," she muttered through his kiss.

"We just ate something," he replied distractedly.

She pulled back and furrowed her brow. "That tiny little tart? Are you serious?"

"Okay, granted…it did very little to sate my hunger." Sarah sent him a meaningful little grin and he poked her belly playfully, earning a tinkling giggle.

"I'm not talking about _that _kind of hunger, Agent Walker. _God_, get your mind out of the gutter."

"You're the one who decided eating that tart in bed was a great idea."

"It _was_ a great idea," he replied against her slightly tangled hair.

Images of what had followed after Chuck took the dessert out of the box mingled with the residual feelings of his lips, tongue, hands…and other things…and she felt herself flush. Craning her neck to rub her nose against his temple, she pushed herself even further back against him. "It was. We really should pack up."

He groaned, reaching up to sweep her hair from her neck and kiss the soft skin there. She leaned her head to the side to grant him further access and sighed, running her hands along his forearms as he tightened his hold on her. "Do we have to?"

Sarah swallowed. "Unless you want to leave our stuff here, yes…we have to."

_Oh my God, I don't want to._

As if he could sense her thoughts, his hand slid down from her belly, lower and lower…

Sarah gasped, her eyes snapping open at his boldness. She turned in his arms and pounced on him, thoughts of eating and packing and, well, everything else besides Chuck Bartowski disappearing from her mind as though they'd never existed at all.

}o{

"Okay. There's a 10:00 train headed for Zurich. It's a more round-about way of getting there, but not as round-about as the 11:50." Chuck stood in his boxers at the door to the bathroom, peering down at his phone again as Sarah leaned down to turn on the shower, a pristine, white bathrobe provided by the hotel draped around her body—the first piece of clothing she'd worn since around 4 o'clock.

"10:00? We can do that, right?"

"Easy. We've got plenty of time. It'll only take us fifteen minutes to get to the train station. And with the way taxi drivers drive, I'd bet it will be more like ten." He wrinkled his nose a little at his own joke and she grinned over her shoulder at him pushing her hair behind her ear and straightening to her full height.

As Chuck began playing around on his phone, she quietly snuck up on him, watching as his brow furrowed in concentration. In the last twenty four hours, she'd come to appreciate that look in a completely different way. Now, it was as sexy as it was adorable.

"So you finish your shower and I'll start packing." Chuck looked up from his phone and was a little surprised to see her standing so close. He masked it by leaning forward to kiss her forehead. "I'll be right out here."

He turned and began walking back into the room but Sarah followed. "You're not taking a shower?"

"Maybe after you. Maybe I'll wait until we get on the train."

"I thought we were eating on the train," she said, leaning against the doorframe and watching him start to gather his clothing from the floor around the bed. She saw him blush a little when he started picking up hers, lifting her underpants off of the ground. "Thank you," she murmured coyly.

"You're, uh, you're welcome," he replied through a trembling voice.

After everything they'd done to each other, including the particularly dirty (literally) session with the sticky dessert, he was shy about picking her intimates up off the floor? It was as if he was trying to find more ways to make her crazier in love with him than she already was.

"C'mere," she said, crossing her arms at her chest.

His eyes lifted from where he'd set his suitcase. "Huh? What?"

"I said come over here."

"That's not the best plan, Sarah. You have a shower to take, I have bags to pack, we have a 10:00 train to catch."

"I'm not going to do anything, just come here."

With a sigh, he looked over his shoulder and watched as she jutted her bottom lip out in a pout. He'd never seen anything like it on Sarah's stunning face and it left him reeling. He managed to shake his head and mutter, "Mm mm."

Losing a bit of patience, she stood straight and put her hands on her hips. "I can make you come over here. You know that, right, Chuck?"

"Y-Yeah. I know." He rubbed his hands nervously down his boxers. Blaming it on the fact that two showers would waste the planet's resources, Chuck hurried to her side and allowed her to wrap her arms around his shoulders. "So?" he prompted.

Sarah ran the fingers of her hand through his hair. Then she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his ear, letting her breath drift against the skin. She felt him shiver and inwardly grinned. _Too easy._

As her fingers teased the hair at the back of his neck, she whispered something into his ear and pulled back a little to wink.

Without a second thought, Chuck lifted her into his arms and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind them.

}o{

Chuck insisted on picking up his prescription of eczema moisturizer before they left and had managed to find a nearby 24 hour pharmacy. She didn't think they would have time, but he promised it would take twenty minutes at the most.

They split up when they arrived at Gare Montparnasse. Sarah voiced her misgivings about his going off alone with the Intersect in his head, when Ring agents could still be around looking for them. When he refused to let her come with him, a definite blush on his face, she was amused enough to relent.

They set up a meeting time of 10:45 beneath the large clock in the station and he left. Sarah wandered down to the Avenue du Maine and found a small shop with interesting clothing in the window. Ten minutes later she was back in the train station, a permanent smirk on her face as she thought of how much Chuck would like her purchases.

As she perused the knick-knacks and touristy bobble heads in the station's gift shop, she thought back to that time two years ago, when she'd first slept with Chuck. Slept, not…_slept_. She remembered pushing the door open and seeing him moving around his room with jerky movements she assumed was dancing, his lips pursed and his nose wrinkled in what looked to be his attempt at making a sexy face. She giggled to herself as she thought of the little "woo" noises he made and the way he paled when he saw her come in. And the way he sat up straight in bed when she pulled back her coat to reveal the see-through, purple negligee with matching bra and panties underneath.

The rest of the memory was a little bitter, even now, so she pushed it out of her head, and decided they could make new memories with what she bought for tonight. Or maybe they'd forget about it completely if things went according to plan.

Smirking again, she wandered to the display case piled with keychains. The Arc de Triomphe dangled from some of them, but most of them had the Eiffel Tower. She picked up a handsome brass one and fisted it. Chuck would like it, to commemorate their time together in Paris.

She suffered the morose thought that he might need a reminder if they got back to Burbank and had to act like nothing had happened between them, or worse, the team was split up. Shaking her head at herself, she vowed to focus on the here and now, buying Chuck's keychain and hurrying to the spot where she was supposed to meet up with Chuck.

She stood nervously beneath the large clock ten minutes later, their tickets for the 11:50 train to Zurich stashed in her coat pocket, her bag at her feet and her purse over her shoulder. It had been well over a half hour since she'd last seen Chuck and he was at least ten minutes later than he'd said he would be. Her eyes flicked back and forth over the faces of the passing travelers as she tapped the toe of her boot and worked her lip between her teeth. She pulled her phone out of her purse and checked to see if she'd missed his call or text.

There was nothing.

A thousand different things could have happened to him. Besides being kidnapped by the Ring, there were the things that happened to normal people without government hardware in their brain. Things like being hit by a car, being mugged…

Sarah didn't like to think of herself as paranoid, but at the moment, paranoia was stunting her thought process.

Another five minutes passed as she saw a tall, broad-shouldered young man wandering through the throngs of late-night travelers. He wore a charcoal baseball cap on his head and dark sunglasses. _Oh God, Chuck. Could you be anymore obvious?_

She smiled widely in spite of her frustration, wondering why the nerd always had to do something endearing when she wanted so badly to be angry with him. Sarah had to hand it to him—a disguise wasn't a bad idea considering Casey would realize at some point that they were AWOL and would have access to video surveillance in the station. But when it was 11 o'clock on a Thursday night, in a semi-enclosed train station, a guy in a hat with sunglasses stood out more than he blended in.

He flashed a grin as he spotted her and she smiled back, ignoring the panic that set in when she realized how terribly she'd missed him, and how much she'd relied on his showing up. She was lost and there was officially no going back. It was Chuck…or no one.

As he neared her, she saw he held a comic book in one hand, his suitcase in the other. Her grin died and she glared. "A comic book, Chuck?" she asked, gesturing to it as he got close enough to hear her over the arrival of the 11 o'clock train. "You were supposed to meet me here fifteen minutes ago! Do you know how worried I was?"

"I'm sorry. It's just that I was walking past the magazine stand and I saw the latest issue of _Justice League_. I've been waiting for—" His jaw snapped shut as he realized her frustration wasn't abating. "I'm sorry. I should have texted you. There was a long line at the pharmacy."

Sarah sighed and reached up to pluck his sunglasses off so that she could see into his eyes. She liked it better that way. "How did it go?"

"Fine. Dr. Feldman is the best dermatologist ever. He fixed everything so that it was waiting there with my name on it." He grinned again as she tugged on the front of his jacket and pulled him in for a kiss. "Mm, what'd you do?"

He didn't miss the way she looked away and bit her lip with a gleeful smile. "I made some purchases for the train."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" he asked with sincere curiosity.

"I'll show ya later."

"What? Why not show me…" A dreamy smile spread across his face as his eyes sparkled in mischief. "Oooh. Hehe."

They found a bench nearby and fell into it together, their arms still wrapped securely around each other. A breeze went through the terminal, but as they were tangled together, adorning their jackets, the cold didn't seem to be an issue for either of them.

"Sarah, are you nervous?"

The question took her by surprise. She leaned away from him a bit to look into his face. His brow was furrowed in that special way of his and she wanted nothing more than to reach up and rub the wrinkles out of his forehead. Instead, she shook her head. "Nervous about what?"

"This. Leaving with me. Instead of being on a plane back to Burbank, back to your job, your career."

"I'm going back at _some _point, Chuck. Why should I be nervous? Think of this as an elongated vacation. Sick days. Whatever." She smiled to ease his apparent worry, but it dimmed when he shook his head.

"What if—" He stopped and sighed, rubbing his hand along the thigh of his jeans.

"What if what, Chuck?" she prompted.

"I can't stop thinking about what will happen when all of this is over. The elongated vacation. What happens when we get back? I don't know if I can keep pretending I'm not in love with you. We never did fool Casey and Beckman…the woman has these beady eagle eyes that can see straight through me. You know I can't hide it from her."

"I know," she breathed. "The 49B." As terrified as she'd been of leaving him a year ago, only to be replaced by an agent who didn't know him, who had no interest in taking care of him outside of making sure he wasn't killed, the memory was a sweet one. It was the way he'd defended her against Beckman, fought for her to stay with him, and risked admitting he cared for her in front of people who could just as soon whisk Sarah away from him if they so chose to.

Chuck sat upright, startling her out of her reverie. "Do you think Beckman will do that again? The 49B?"

She shook her head adamantly. "Chuck, no. General Beckman is already too aware of how we feel about each other. Everyone is aware. There's no point in the 49B anymore."

"What about D.C.?"

Sarah's face fell a little. "Chuck, you know I'm not going to D.C. I thought I made it clear, before I left for Paris with Shaw, that I was coming back to you, that this, _us_, was going to happen. Finally."

"Do you have that choice?"

"There's nothing _in _D.C. Shaw is dead, Chuck. His projects, everything he was working on for the CIA, that's all dead along with him." He pressed his lips together in what looked suspiciously like regret. "Hey. Look at me." He looked up at her. "Don't let Daniel Shaw make you lose any sleep. I know it's hard, living with the fact that you took a human being's life." Chuck's eyes darted away again. "Hey!" She held his face gently between her hands. "I know that it's hard. I still have nightmares about my Red Test…" She swallowed thickly.

"Sarah…"

"This isn't about me, Chuck. It's about you." She headed off his attempt to comfort her. She was past comfort where Eva Shaw's death was concerned. She'd lived with it for so long that the unbearable ache became a part of her existence, something that would always haunt her no matter what. She'd come to terms with it now. When she found out it was Shaw's wife, she'd thought she was lost again. The walls she'd built around the haunting memory crumbled.

And then Chuck was there, with his Black Ops team, air support—the _tank_, for God's sake. He found out about her Red Test, that she'd killed because she'd been ordered to, not to protect another human being or to save her country. She'd killed to become an official spy.

Chuck had stood in that train yard that night, unable to pull the trigger where she'd succeeded during her own Red Test. That had left her with debilitating shame. He knew what she'd done. He knew what she was capable of. The thought of how much she must have disappointed him had been what kept her from going to him that day and seeking his comfort. She'd hidden in her room under the covers until Shaw called her to Castle that night to tell her about the Ring compound.

Shaw sent her to retrieve Chuck for the mission and she'd been so nervous, so awfully hurt at the prospect of walking in there and seeing him, seeing the disappointment in his face. He was drunk and pants-less, holding his toy guitar and sitting on the floor. But Morgan promptly informed her that he'd found out she was leaving with Shaw. _That_ was why he was so upset. Not her Red Test, or the fact that she'd killed another human being, but because she was leaving with another man.

She'd shooed Morgan away then, her heart lifting from the abyss where it had settled when she found out her Red Test was Shaw's wife. Chuck single-handedly stamped out all of her fear and self-hatred that had been broiling inside of her since the morning. And she did her best to make sure he knew she loved him. He saved her for the first time in that moment when he took her face in his hands and kissed her back.

"You saved me," she whispered again, for the second time that day. She kissed him softly and pulled back, swiping his hat off of his curls so that she could press her forehead against his.

He smiled and shrugged one shoulder. "I'd do it again. A thousand times over."

"I know."

"Hey!" he said, glancing at his watch quickly and pulling away. "I forgot about something and I wanted to give it to you before we got on the train. I don't know why; I just did." He rummaged in the inside pocket of his jacket and revealed a small, white gardenia.

Sarah couldn't wipe her grin from her face if she tried as Chuck reached out to pin the flower to her jacket lapel.

"Just so you know, it's fake."

"I kinda figured," she answered, her voice cracking with overwhelming happiness. She reached up and felt the petals, letting her fingers run through them. "This is beautiful, Chuck."

"Well, I saw a little flower stand on the street while I was walking here and she assured me that the silk ones are better than the real ones because the petals won't fall off. Which makes sense. So I thought—" The rest of his words were cut off as she surged forward, framing his face with her hands again and kissing him senseless.

They stayed that way for awhile, their lips moving together, their hands wandering, the silk gardenia squished between their bodies, until the approaching sound of the train arriving alerted Sarah to the time.

She pulled her lips from his with a smack, trying to catch her breath as she looked up at the train. "That's our train, Chuck."

"What train?"

She let out an amused huff and climbed off of him, straightening her clothes and tugging him to his feet. They had both been so lost in each other, it was a wonder their luggage still lay at their feet.

Hoisting their respective bags up and taking each other's hand, they hurried towards the train. Chuck pulled her to a stop a few feet from the train door.

"What is it?" she asked in mild concern.

"Are you sure you want this?"

"Don't you?"

"More than anything."

She paused for a moment, then said with every ounce of sincerity she had in her, "Me too."

As they climbed into the train and wandered past the compartments to find their own, Sarah let go of her inhibitions, her fear of the future, her job, the last few days, the last few _years_, and focused on Chuck Bartowski.

Future be damned. As long as she had Chuck, she'd be alright.

Even if it meant they stayed on this train until Zurich, then got on a plane and disappeared forever; as long as they were together, as long as she was with Chuck, it didn't matter where she ended up, or what she was doing.

And it didn't matter if she had to leave the spy life to keep it that way.

"Hey! Sarah! There's room service!"

* * *

**A/N: **So. That's it.

It was brought to my attention when I first submitted this for the challenge that there are a few inconsistencies in the last bit of my story. I did so much extra research, yet I totally missed how very obvious it is that Chuck isn't the man in that video Morgan and Casey find in the station. That being said, I just left it. You guys don't mind, right? Right.

Although, I'll have to pay more attention next time!

Hope you all enjoyed it! This _is _the last part. No third part. If you want the third part, you can watch _Chuck Versus the Honeymooners_. (wink)

Leave a review. They've been proven to make me write like a maniac for you people.

'Til next time, my friends!


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